


017 - One Stormy Night

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Slow burn, friends to lalalovers.





	017 - One Stormy Night

The storm was due to hit around eight pm, and widespread power outages were promised. There were only two people that knew about your phobia of thunder. The first was your housemate, who was away for work. The second was Van, but you had told him about it when you were little kids, so you didn't expect him to remember. Alone in your flat you collected all the candles you could find, and attempted to soundproof the place with extra curtains. Every old mp3 player and iPod was fully charged, ready. It was around half past six when a loud knock on the door forced a startled squeak out of you. You opened the door to Van. He was wearing that long grey coat you loved. 

"Hi?" you said, the inflection indicating confusion. His hands were suspiciously behind his back.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. You blankly stared at him. "Y/N." You sighed and closed your eyes. You felt him put something over your head gently. A headband? Headphones? "Open!" You moved your hands up and touched. Earmuffs. You took them off and looked at them. Ridiculous, fluffy earmuffs. "For the thunder," he explained, like you didn't already figure that out and weren't already on the verge of tears. You looked up at him. "You don't… have to wear them?" he said slowly, reading your expression as unhappiness.

"I told you about thunder when we were like, eight. How did you remember that?"

He smiled again and shrugged. "Come on, Larry's downstairs waiting for us. Do you have any candles?" You stared at him blankly again. He did this a lot. Give parts of the story, or ask out of context questions. "We're going to all come to ours tonight and like, camp inside through the storm. And I'm not leavin' you alone here."

…

When you got to their flat Bondy and Bob were dragging mattresses out into the lounge room. Benji was lighting candles. A lot of candles.

"Ya gonna' burn the place down mate!" Larry said, but handed him the box of candles from yours anyway.

The space between the two old couches and where the television sat on a second-hand table became a warzone of pillows, blankets, and torches. There were bowls of popcorn and chips being passed around. You burrowed into a corner space while Van looked for his iPod for you. Bondy lounged on the couch above you. He pulled your earmuffs off and put them on over his hat.

"Do you think he knows these don't actually cancel any noise?"

"Shhhh," you whispered at him.

"He fuckin' loves you though, right," Bondy said in a nonchalant tone, like it was simply a matter of fact. He handed the earmuffs back and you put them on as Van sunk into the blankets next to you. You never knew what to say when people commented on how Van was with you. You weren't dating, after all. You tried to avoid thinking too hard about how you felt about Van. It was complicated and confusing and better left alone.

The sun disappeared behind calm dark clouds, and for a little bit you thought maybe the news had overestimated the intensity of the storm. You were wrong. Very quickly the wind picked up and you all watched as anything not tied to something rolled down the street. There were plastic bags, boxes, small tree branches, and some unidentifiable objects. The wind rattled the windowpanes and you took a step backwards. Van was standing behind you and his hands held your shoulders, providing reassuring stability. You let your head roll back onto his chest and he kissed the top of your head. You tried to avoid thinking too hard about that, too. 

The rain followed soon after. It bucketed down and the streets started to flood quickly. The guys got bored of watching the storm roll in, so they started to cook nachos. Bob came and sat next to you as he mashed avocados for the guacamole. You were glad he was making it, because the others couldn't be trusted with such a precious commodity. There was a flash of lightning across the night sky. You knew that meant thunder was coming. You adjusted the earmuffs, and held your hands together nervously.

"You alright?" Bob asked.

"Yeah. Just don't love storms," you told him. He nodded and looked back at the guac.

"You can kind of work out how close it is by the lightning and thunder." You loved Bob because whenever he contributed to conversation it was always so worth the wait. You looked at him to go on. "Lightning comes first, then you count the seconds until the thunder. Smaller gap, closer the storm," he explained. On cue, a crash of thunder sounded, and you could feel your stomach flip as a painful shiver rippled down your spine.

…

When the lights went out and the flat was illuminated in yellow flickering light you were half asleep in Van's lap. He was sitting up playing Fifa around your sleeping frame. He was winning, therefore the blackout was potentially the worse thing to ever happen to him. He threw the controller dramatically across the room.

"Mate!" Larry yelled. "Ya weren't gonna win anyway!"

Van looked down at you and smirked. Dramatic little fuck. A horrendous clap of thunder sounded out, and you curled your legs up into your chest. Van pulled you closer into him, and you let him switch the earmuffs for headphones. Sometimes by The Strokes played, and he handed you the iPod. You looked at the screen. He'd made you a playlist.

As the sounds of the storm were drowned out by music, you watched the boys play cards by candlelight. Van kept one hand close to you, switching between twirling fingers through your hair and rubbing your arm and back. Maybe storms weren't that bad.

…

The room flooded with light. The power was back. It was 3am. You stood as Larry and Van put a mattress back in Van's room. He then ushered you into the bed. Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Van waited for some sort of signal from you. Behind him Larry was walking around turning the lights off, then fell back into the mess of pillows and blankets and musicians.

"You can stay; it's your bed," you said quietly. He nodded, closed the door and climbed in next to you. You were facing each other. You tried to make your breathing quiet, and he was doing the same. "Van?" It was bright enough that you could make out his face, but he was filtered through the moonlight so was therefore flawless. Maybe that's how you always saw him though. He opened his eyes and looked at you. "Thank you, for remembering… and coming to get me and the earmuffs and the music and just, yeah, everything." You spoke quietly, but it came out fast. At first he didn't react, just kept studying your face. Then, a small nod.

"You stopped seeing that record store guy?" Van said. No. Nooooo no no no.

"A few weeks ago, yeah," you answered carefully. He just nodded. You could hear a voice in your head telling you to leave it alone; to not ask why. "Why?" Fuck.

"I saw him the other day snogging a girl outside the store. Just, lookin' out for you," he said and it sounded careful too. You pretended that the emotion running through you wasn't disappointment. You went to switch to lying on your other side, but Van started to speak again. "Why-" he paused, thinking, "why did you break up? Was it just one of 'em, or?"

"Or what?" you immediately asked. He shrugged. You both knew or what. "I just… it didn't really mean anything. Wasn't really going anywhere."

The air felt heavy with tension and electricity. The storm outside was dying, but the rain was still pouring. The conversation felt out of place in the night. A night that otherwise was filled with warm feelings and a mutual understanding. You wanted to fix it but there was only one way to do that, and you were terrified to make that move.

"He didn't love you," and even though Van was right, it still hurt to hear. "Like, he didn't treat you like you should be treated,"

"How should I be treated?"

"Like a goddess," his reply was out of his mouth before the last syllable of 'treated' even dropped. "You're gorgeous and got your own stuff going on and you're dead clever and just, too good for some lad like him."

Now or never?

"Am I too good for someone like you?" When you looked up at him his face was unreadable. Maybe disbelief. Maybe he was processing.

"Yes. You are way out of my league. But… but, I'd…" he was looking for words and you could see his hands try to fill in the gap in dialogue, which they often did. "I'd treat you right. I'd be the best thing that ever happened to you."

You laughed out loud at the sudden confidence. Then, because of the confidence, you couldn't tell if he was speaking in abstract, or if he was offering something. You stopped laughing and looked at him. He was watching you carefully, without a smile. You went to take a breath in, but it happened in a few small sharp intakes, like you'd been crying.

That was it. There wasn't anything more that needed to be said. The rest was obvious. It was obvious that Van was in love with you. He'd probably fallen in love with you before you ever told him about the thunder, before you got suspended together in the first year of high school for skipping class, before you helped him set Larry up with your cousin, before you grew hips that swayed in time with Van's music, before you had your shit sorted, before anything. He was probably born in love with you, and you were sure as fuck born in love with him.

Then, as the last drops of rain hit the pavement outside and you couldn't take your eyes off his, Van moved the blankets and closed the space between you.


End file.
